Or Else
by INMH
Summary: Apparently, this doesn't count as a favor. Sexual abuse, Non-Con, Abuse of power, Blackmail, Strong Language. (Sorry about that, accidentally rated it 'T' initially).


Or Else  
**Rating:** R/M  
**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort/Drama  
**Summary:** For hc_bingo, prompt "Blackmail". Apparently, this doesn't count as a favor. Sexual abuse, Non-Con, Abuse of power, Blackmail, Strong Language.  
**Author's Note:** Ah, I've been interested in giving this a try. Sick and twisted relationships are always interesting.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami/Vatra.

[-]

"Just shut up and take it, cupcake."

[-]

Shoved against the wall of the showers, room hot with steam that fogs the cameras and makes the prison jumpsuit even more uncomfortable, _Ow, ow, that hurts, fuck, let up let up a bit, push him away, fucker let go of my FUCKTEETHHE'SUSINGTEETH wrists that hurts, it's bad enough this has to happen do you have to make it worse, of course you do you're an asshole-_

[-]

Murphy's wrists hurt.

They're sore, red, scratched in a few places. Leather gloves are surprisingly uncomfortable when tightened to a vice-like grip on the wrist. It didn't help that he had struggled quite a bit and chaffed the skin even further. Given how numb they went, he's dimly curious as to whether or not there might be some permanent damage- but isn't interested in the least in talking to the prison doctor.

Murphy rolls down the sleeves of his uniform to try and hide it, but it doesn't quite work; the sleeves slide up on occasion, and the redness is obvious enough to anyone who happens to look. Not to mention the fabric sliding over the skin is a new shade of hell, both annoying and painful at the same time.

His wrists aren't the only parts of him that hurt, but they're the only part he's willing to dwell on.

[-]

"Not so bad, is it?"

[-]

Arms twisted behind his back, a protruding screw in the wall digging into his hip, _god damn it you're going to twist them out of their sockets and I'm the one who's going to look like an idiot when I have to bullshit something to the doctor, stop __**biting**__ you asshole, I wish to God I could give you as good as I'm getting motherfucker I would love to wipe that smirk off your face-_

[-]

Apparently, this didn't qualify as a 'favor'.

Murphy was quickly regretting the day he ever started to consider going along with Sewell's offer. Beating the holy hell out of Napier wasn't quite as satisfying as he thought it would be, else that might have been something to take solace in. No, Murphy feels like he's been cheated: No satisfaction from the one thing he wanted the most, and now being forced to deal with Sewell in ways he never dreamed he would.

If _this_ doesn't qualify as a favor, then what the hell does? What exactly is Sewell planning on asking of him in the future that is more satisfactory as payment than _this?_ Murphy has brought up his view on the inequality of the deal before, but that means nothing. As far as his position in relation to Sewell's goes, he is in no position to be crying foul.

[-]

"Believe me when I say this could be much worse."

[-]

His face pressed into the old mattress in the storage room_, focus on how bad it smells, how uncomfortable your nose is shoved down like this, hurts every time there's a thrust just as it's hard to breathe because every push into the bed compresses your chest and makes it even harder to take in a breath as it already is, between that and the smell maybe you'll get lucky and pass out-_

[-]

Frank notices.

Of course Frank notices; he's the only one in this hell-hole that notices anything about Murphy.

Aside from Sewell.

"Murphy?"

"Frank-"

"Murphy, what the fuck is this?"

"I…"

"Who did it?"

It is then that Murphy begins to suspect that this isn't the first time someone's done something to an inmate- and given Frank's repeated warnings to Murphy about associating with Sewell, he doesn't have too many guesses as to who one of those people might be.

As much as it pains him (literally and metaphorically), Murphy keeps his peace and doesn't say a damn word. Frank takes him to the infirmary to get his wrists checked out, and the doctor doesn't bother asking how the injuries came to be. Murphy waits for Frank to leave (his presence is not strictly required) but he sticks around and eventually takes him back to his cell.

After a while Frank stops asking, but Murphy has a feeling that it will be a cold day in Hell before he drops the subject altogether.

[-]

"What's wrong? Did I wear you out?"

[-]

It's over, getting dressed again, _don't look at him, don't look at the son of a bitch, you don't want to see that look on his face because if you do he's going to be the second person you fuck up in this room, except this time you'll get caught and probably go away for the rest of your life because you __**know**__ what happens to cop-killers in prison-_

[-]

He can't.

He _can't._

Murphy doesn't have a choice, because God damn it, he is so close to getting out of Ryall. So close. All he has to do is repay his favor to Sewell officially (_apparently whoring myself isn't enough_) and then he's gone and forgotten. If he reneges now, or if he rats Sewell out to Frank, at the very _least_ Murphy will be kept in for assaulting Napier- odds are, murder's going to be tacked onto that as well, because like hell Sewell's going to own up to finishing him off.

_Just grit your teeth and deal, Murph. Just get through it, and then you'll be gone and you'll never have to see the son of a bitch again. _

Endure.

Just endure.

[-]

Sewell grins that shit-eating grin that makes Murphy want to kill him.

"Same time next week, cupcake?"

-End


End file.
